


Angel

by biguy



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Bisexual Carl Gallagher, Fluff, Implied Ian/Mickey, M/M, i guess??, set around season 8, there isnt enough bi carl so i made my own
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 13:46:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13124967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biguy/pseuds/biguy
Summary: Carl Gallagher never really considered his sexuality. Not until he bumped into an asshole with great teeth, freckles and pockets full of weed.





	Angel

**Author's Note:**

> hey hi i fucking love bi carl and there's not enough of it out there

Carl slung his backpack over his shoulder as he pushed his way out of the bathroom, a booming ‘You’re fucking _dead_ , Gallagher!’ chasing after him and the tedious strides in his steps. He could hear the threats and banging bathroom stall doors as if they were right behind him and he picked up his pace, scrambling around the corner, almost face planting into a locker.

Carl threw fleeting glances behind his shoulder, sweat beginning to tickle the temple of his head. A white toothy smile spread out over his cheeks and he pushed a hand through his hair before throwing his back against the wall just before the next turn in the corridor, (poorly) hiding to the left of the row of lockers as his chest heaved. 

He stood and waited, watching kids scurry past, finding their fifth-period classes while he caught his breath. After a few seconds of waiting, Carl got impatient and started to peak his head around the locker he was next to. Luckily, he ducked back into his incognito position after catching a slim glimpse of Jack Halstead practically knocking people down left and right as he rushed down the hall, looking like the Incredible fucking Hulk with his pulsing neck veins and flared nostrils.

As soon as Jack passed, Carl took his chance to dart back down the way he came. Though, just as he did this, he collided full on with some jackass who immediately started dropping profanities and… Well, weed apparently. Carl jumped back, holding his throbbing knee where he had hit it, and watched as the guy's hair fell in front of his eyes when he knelt to his knees, scrambling to pick up the bags of weed that spilt from his bag after the collision.

‘Watch where you’re fucking going, dipshit!’ The guy hissed, shoving the marijuana into his pockets and adjusting the beanie on his head. For a moment Carl wondered why in the fuck this guy was wearing a beanie in 100-degree heat. 

‘Oh suck my dick, it’s not like you busted a fuckin’ knee,’ Carl scoffed, watching as the guy stood up and brushed the hair out of his eyes. Carl noticed they were a soft brown colour.

‘Whatever, man,’ he said and pushed past Carl, disappearing somewhere down the hall, Carl watching.

_Dick._

_***_

After the bell signalling the end of the day rang and Carl had successfully avoided Jack Halstead, he headed out the back way, yanking a pack of Winstons from his pocket and lighting one up, exhaling a chuckle and letting his back fall against the graffiti-covered wall.

It wasn’t his fault he punched Halstead in the dick. Well. Maybe it was. But that’s beside the point.

Carl began to let his knees give way so he could sit on the ground and enjoy his cigarette. But, his knee seemed to have other plans as a sharp tear of pain shot through it.

‘Motherfucker!’ He grasped his knee and dropped to the ground, his ass landing with a painful thud. His head fell back against the wall and he took another drag from his smoke, eyes shut tight.

‘That knee still giving you trouble?’

Carl jumped at the voice and made a small squealing sound as well. He glared up at the source for a quick second and groaned.

‘No fucking thanks to you, jackass,’ he scoffed, taking another drag.

It was silent for a moment and Carl looked up for more than a moment to actually get a good look at the arrogant asshat he’d ran into earlier that day.

Asshat’s hair was darker and longer than his – maybe an inch or two and the beanie was still covering it, his skin was a sort of caramel tone and dark freckles cluttered over his cheek and nose. The thick brows above his eyes - that Carl remembered were _soft brown -_ held a crease between them and that was when Carl realised he was frowning down at him.

‘The fuck do you want?’ Carl asked, not realising his own hard stare had softened.

‘Well, I was coming to smoke some weed but I guess now I'm checking on you? How's the knee?’ Carl had looked back down at his legs but out of the corner of his eye, he could see the guy’s hands twitching at the straps of his backpack. ‘I'm sorry, man. Just didn’t wanna get caught with a bag full of weed. I still have a fuck-ton. You want some? I can fix up your knee too if you want?’

At this proposition, Carl looked up and grinned and then patted the cement next to him.

-

 ‘So what’s your name?’ Carl asked, taking another hit of what seemed like their tenth joint in the hour they’d been sitting behind the school. 

 ‘Angelo,’ the taller of the two said, taking the joint from Carl’s hand. ‘It’s Italian. Named after my great-grandfather.’

Carl picked at the fraying ends of the bandage wound tightly around his knee. After _Angelo_ had checked it out and told him it wasn’t that bad, he wrapped it anyway while they had a small conversation about why the fuck Angelo has a first-aid kit in his bag. Then they started smoking weed.

‘Aren’t you Hispanic though?’ Carl inquired with a laugh he couldn’t hold back.

Angelo seemed to find it funny as well and they began laughing hysterically, despite the topic lacking in any real humour.

‘My dad is Hispanic. My mom is Italian. Get the best of both worlds right?’ Angelo laughed again and took another hit while Carl’s eyes seemed glued to him.

‘What, pasta _and_ tacos? Sounds like a fucking dream,’ Carl’s joke sent them both into another spiral of laughter and Carl thought Angelo had a really nice laugh.

He watched as Angelo pushed his hair back out of his eyes and took the joint from between his teeth. Then, he realised how nice Angelo’s teeth were. They looked familiar but he could place it. 

‘So, uh… Angelo huh? Does that mean I can call you my Angel?’ Carl blurted out before he could stop himself. Angelo’s eyes widened and his mouth fell into an ‘o’.

Carl was about to say ‘hey I'm kidding dude!’ when Angelo’s ‘o’ shaped mouth stretched into a smile and he leaned in closer.

‘Anytime you want, baby.’

They looked at each other for a few moments something sparking in their eyes, a fluttery feeling in Carl's chest - or was it his stomach? - before they began laughing again.

‘That’s fuckin’ gay,’ Carl wheezed and Angelo countered with a, ‘hey you’re even gayer!’

‘Well, I gotta get going… I’ll see ya round, Gallagher,’ Angelo said with a smile, clapping Carl on the shoulder. ‘Look after that fuckin’ knee.’

Angelo picked himself up from his spot next to Carl where they had admittedly gravitated closer toward each other in the past hour they’d been hanging out, and began walking away. He turned back around and shouted, ‘I’ll see ya round!’ before turning his back once again and walking toward the street.

Carl watched with a dopey smile on his face – probably from the drugs (right?) – but frowned when he realised he never got Angelo’s number.

‘Hey! Am I gonna see you again?’ Carl yelled, getting up from his spot on the ground and dusting the dirt off it ass as he watched Angelo turn and shrug with a shit-eating grin across his freckled cheeks.

 

**Author's Note:**

> im gay  
> this is shit but uhhhhhh hopefully it'll get better


End file.
